


The Laws are meant to be used

by CJaneway



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Interesting use of state laws, Knotting, M/M, Mating, Not Beta Read, Sorry Not Sorry, Stomach Distending, Underage Sex, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:55:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1922337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CJaneway/pseuds/CJaneway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That day John Stilinski knew his son was meant to be a lawyer - only those creeps could bend the laws in such idiotic ways to suit their needs. Derek Hale was still going to die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Laws are meant to be used

«Oh, fuck yeah!» Stiles moaned into his pillow, fingers gripping the fluffy items to the point of ripping the pillowcase as he was roughly pounded from behind. Because Jesus, this was not how younger Stiles would have imagined the future sex happenings of older Stiles, but older Stiles was sure to sit down and have 'the talk' with younger Stiles – after the brains returned. Derek's dick always made the brain disappear into the unknown territory of _yes, fuck yes, more!_  
«So fucking tight,» that alpha growl got Stiles exited on a regular day, but with that rumble traveling all the way through Derek and fucking _into_ Stiles it was like God had created wolfs for sex and sex alone – the rest of the superpowers were just benefits really.

Derek couldn't deal with how hot, tight and absolutely willingly wrecked Stiles became when they fucked, mated, made love. The soothing, broken-up litany of praise, begging and pleas falling from the kissed-plump lips of his mate made Derek's wolf rumble with happiness.  
«So good, just like this, Stiles,» Derek planted his clawed fingers around slim, smooth, freckled hips and fucked up into his mate like his life depended on it, making it a life or death mission to see stiles come untouched.  
  
«Right there, there, yes Dereeeee-!» Stiles attempt at his wolf's name was mangled by the moan that forced it's way up his throat when Derek's fat cock dragged over his prostate. God the prostate, if it had hands Stiles would shake them and thank it profusely for existing.  
«I'm going to breed you» not-at-all-in-control werewolf growled into his mates neck, his bodyweight pressing down on Stile's arching back as he relentlessly claimed, marked and completely owned the pliant wonder that once was a completely coherent Stiles Stilinski. «Gonna knot you good» Derek growled, fangs pushing against his lips, eyes blood red and wanting.

«Fuck yeah, k-knot me, fill me!» The scent of arousal wafted off of Stiles and Derek relished in the utter abandonment his mate displayed. A sharp thrust, pressing Derek all the way into his mate, and a long, drawn out moan from Stiles was all it took: Derek was growing, expanding, filling Stiles, straining his hole to it's limits. Every time it felt like _toomuch_ but _notenough_ and Stiles loved it. They were made for each other, the prostate would agree, as the large knot expanded so perfectly and fucking _pressed_ down on Stiles's spot and made things dissolve into a land where Stiles honestly could believe that every time they fucked a kitten was born.

«So good, yeah, take it, fuck you're so good.» Derek kept mumbling incoherent nonsense as his beautiful mate rippled around his knot, wailing, clawing at the sheets. «Come for me, Stiles.» And Stiles did. The pleasure made him choke up so bad he couldn't make a sound while his dick produced spurt after spurt of come, bouncing wildly as Stiles twitched, almost violently, eyes glazed and unfocused. Derek rumbled deep in his throat: he filled Stiles with so much come he could feel his young mate's stomach distend from the sheer amount. This was how it was supposed to be. Stiles made a content noise as Derek rolled them over on the side, still locked together, he stroked his full stomach and knew that Derek was going to lick him clean later – inside out. 

  
**************  
  
«DEREK HALE! YOU ARE A DEAD MAN!» Oh. Fuck. Apparently there was no late shift at the station tonight. Stiles blinked awake, his thoughts already racing and his ass aching deliciously. He blearily looked at his dad, who was standing in front of the bed, gun drawn. A click sounded. It was loaded.

«You cantankerous little shit!» John dragged Derek out of bed, buck naked, and pointed the gun at him, Derek, who hadn't even had the time to put his regular sourwolf face on held up his hands and tried his best not to wolf-out. «Explain» Said the Beacon Hills sheriff with a dead calm in his voice and a finger on the trigger. Derek tried for the charming smile that got him discounts at the local grocery store if it was the right cashier. It didn't work. The sheriff's eyebrows drew together and he took aim at Derek's forehead.  
  
«Dad, wait!» Stiles was desperate, he tried to sit up and cover his lower half with the comforter Derek must have pulled over them some time after they'd finished. He was not, Stiles repeated, he was not going to let his dad see all the come that was leaking out of his ass while he had a gun pointed at the wolf who put it there. «I can explain!»  
«Explain what, son? That my sixteen year old was just caught in bed with a man clearly old enough to call this entire thing statutory rape! Dear god, Stiles you better start talking!» Stile's mind raced, and raced, and raced before _ohmygod_ **bingo**.  
«Actually, dad, I'm the one perpetrating a misdemeanor here.» Both the sheriff and Derek gaped at him.  
«Misdemeanor? What? How can this be your fault in the eyes of the law!?» John was back to that deadly calm voice.  
«Well, you're briefed on that entire werewolf-stitch, right?» John nodded stiffly at his son while Derek questioned his mates sanity about bringing up something the sheriff avoided at all costs unless, y'know, supernatural murder sprees, while the man was holding a gun.  
«So I've committed zoophilia, and in the state of California that's a misdemeanor!» Stiles smiled smugly and sat back down. He immediately regretted it as it made his ass squelch and release more of Derek's copious load.  
«Fuck.» The sheriff said, staring at the naked man he had at gunpoint and his smug yet naked son on the bed.  
«Yes» said Stiles, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. The sheriff paused, looked at Derek, looked at Stiles, looked at Derek again before settling on Stiles.  
«I get cheat days for this. Cheat days with bacon, _real_ bacon.» Then he turned on his heal and went downstairs to get that bottle of whiskey Stiles had forgotten to hide. That day John Stilinski knew his son was meant to be a lawyer - only those creeps could bend the laws in such idiotic ways to suit their needs. Derek Hale was still going to die.


End file.
